The Boy In the Box

My Troop Commander looked at me and asked; why I had failed the Master Gunner course? I had to look him in the eye and let him know I failed the presentation portion of the program, (It’s kind of amusing to me right now as I’m a Professional Speaker of the National Speakers Association). The blame was totally on me, I tried to take on the task, solely upon myself, (everyone else in my group had previously failed out of the course). We were headed to gunnery and I advised the Captain, I had all the technical expertise to assist our Cavalry Troop during gunnery and would take the position of Troop Master Gunner to make sure our troopers would do well. He knew I had been through combat and told me; I’m relying on you Staff Sergeant! We’ll do well sir, that’s a I promise intend to keep to you sir! He dismissed me and now I had made a promise that I intended to keep, not only for me, but I had to prove myself that I had the expertise to assist other soldiers in their gunnery skills. As I walked into out squad room, I was introduced to a new soldier who would be on my Bradley. He had served in Korea during “Operation Desert Storm” and missed the opportunity for combat experience. He had served with a unit I had served with and immediately, I felt an attraction to him from his experience. I counseled him about what my expectations were and what he needed to do to gain rank and become the gunner to my track. He was a tall lanky kid from Texas and I really liked him. Over the next few weeks in preparing for gunnery, I asked him to join me in the simulator in preparing him for the gunners’ position. I t happened to be at 0200 hours on a Saturday morning, he arrived on time, in uniform and was a quick learner, I really liked this kid. He worked his butt off in the motor pool getting out Bradley Fighting Vehicle ready for field training and gunnery. 

It was a September Saturday that I watched the local news report about a local airport that was victimized and an aircraft was about to be stolen and got stuck in the mud on a taxiway, before making a turn onto the main runway. I paid no attention and went on enjoying the weekend with my wife.

Field training against other units was a fun opportunity to test our skills and we had several test during a 12 day Field training Exercise. The next weekend was getting our vehicles ready for gunnery and we were about to have a four day weekend over the Halloween weekend. Tuesday morning came and my soldier was missing and I reported him missing during the morning report. I asked his roommates if they had seen him and they responded they had not seen him since the previous Friday. Wednesday came and he was AWOL, Thursday came and I again reported him missing and it was time to cut the lock on his wall locker and make inventory of his possessions. Going through his possessions, I had to make accountability and came across items that only a pilot would need. I reported all the items to the First Sergeant and Commander and several days later, a local detective stopped by our Troop and asked me questions about the items I had reported during his inventory inspection. One of the items had been reported stolen from an aircraft several week before and they were investigating a stolen plane on Halloween from a local airport. I had no idea of a stolen plane and I called my crew to speak with the detective about what they knew. My driver had been invited by him, on Halloween, to fly with him to Texas over the weekend so he could confront a guy who had made a move on his girl. He had refused and that was the last he had heard of him. We deployed to gunnery several days later and I had to train a new gunner and the competition was high with my track and the commander. Our track had out shot the other tracks during the practice runs and the Troop Commander was calling me out and intended to out gun me. The sights on my track went down and I had to use my sister track for qualification and we maxed it! The commander called me to the tower to congratulate my crew for kicking his butt on the range and we were rewarded the opportunity to hit the rack and sleep in the following morning.

0600 hours, my Platoon Sergeant woke me up and said I needed to report to the Commander and First Sergeant, right now, so much for sleeping in. When I walked into the tower, my Platoon Leader, Platoon Sergeant, first Sergeant and Commander were waiting for me. My first thought, they would find that I didn’t make top gun and they were going to accuse me of cheating, especially since the Troop Commander was in the left lane. To my surprise, they had found my lost soldier. He had stolen a plane on Halloween and attempted to take-off in a deep fog. He had rose to altitude and made a sharp right turn over our military training area, didn’t watch his altimeter and winged into a training area, crashed and burned. They asked me to deliver his remains to his parents in Texas and get all the appropriate paper worked signed. He was my soldier, after all, and I felt it my duty to represent him. My duties was to inspect the remains, place his uniform over his remains and attend to the funeral arraignments.  During the inspection, the once six foot two man was now an elastic wrapped glob of unidentifiable, non-human recognizable four foot burnt figure. I laid the uniform over the figure and coordinated with the funeral director to pick me up at my home in the morning and deliver the remains and me to the Kansas City, airport. The airline saw what I was doing and placed me in first class for my flight to Texas. The Texas funeral director soon met me and secured the remains as I acquired a rental car. That evening, I arrived an hour early, prior to the viewing of the flag draped coffin to get all my paperwork squared away. The family arrived and I gave the family a good hour before I briefed them on the paperwork and tell them of my soldier. How do you look into the eyes of a mother and tell her, her son really screwed up? I described her son’s military bearing and my experience with his training. The next day was the funeral service and I had to make sure the casket was properly delivered into the earth and covered to US Army specifications. One of my soldier’s nephews approached me, as the coffin was being lowered into the grave liner, and asked me more about the Army. I told him to look at the coffin as it was being lowered into the grave. I pointed to the coffin; that’s what happens from making the wrong decisions. Learn from his mistakes and walk away from the final covering, it wasn’t something he needed to witness. I shook his hand and watched the lid on the liner be lowered into place and covered with the good Texas earth.

I often think back to his mother and how she must have felt with her first view of the flag draped coffin and her boy in the box, she would never see again. All she had was memories and when she asked of his uniform, I told her it was with him. The boy in the box was my soldier. I don’t know what more I could have done to have prevented him from stealing a plane and crashing to a fiery death. I often think of him, the 5/17 Cavalry coin he gave me. The boy in the box, one of my kids that I lost, not to combat but to everyday life and the girl far away.  

Frog in the Pool

Sunday morning, we relished the few extra minutes we slept in before our morning walk, and soon to relax with our coffee, sitting alongside the pool. As we walked to our table, I noticed a frog in the pool. Nothing unusual about a frog in the pool, we find them in the skimmer basket all the time. This time, watching the frog struggle, I thought how it reminded me of many people out there who are struggling from decisions they made. I can only imagine how the frog felt as it hopped onto the warm pool deck and followed the coolness of the water as it drifted over the pools edge, as the frog peered down into the clear cool water. It imagined to itself how good it would feel to beat the heat of the Florida summer and leaped into the water. Swimming around the cool water, having the one of the best feelings it had felt in many days. How refreshing it was for the frog to escape the Florida heat. After a while, the frog began to tire from all the swimming and it was time to get out of the water but it had not thought of how it was going to get out of the pool before it leaped in. There are no steps, only ladders to get out of the pool and the toad frog didn’t know how to climb ladders. There are no sloping sides for the frog to grasp hold of and the frog struggled along the smooth sides of the pool. Several times the frog backed away from the side, tried to get a running start, slamming itself to the side of the pool, and failing to achieve its goal of escaping the water. After a while of watching the frog struggle, I decided to help the frog out of the pool with the skimmer net. I scooped the frog from the water and as I adjusted myself to release the frog into the yard, it jumped off the skimmer onto the pool deck and leaped back into the pool. I re-evaluated my plan, I opened the screen door to the pool cage, changed the angle of my approach to the frog, lifted it out of the water once again, and quickly moved the skimmer net, with the frog, to the open door and released it into the yard.

Why tell this story and how does it remind me of people? There are so many people who never plan for their future, they only think of their, “Right Now”, feelings. They never evaluate their total situation and fail to develop an escape or future plan. Many people often trap themselves in jobs or lifestyles they can’t see their way out of. They often fail to accept the help from others and when helped, often leap back into the same situation they had escaped.

The moral of the story; look before you leap, have an escape plan and when in trouble, accept the help from others who appear to have an organized plan.

What Does it Feel Like

January fifteenth, 1991, has been burned into my memory. It was the day the mission changed from “Desert Shield” to “Desert Storm” and the Middle East was forever changed.  

I sat on the front line, starring across the berm which separated Iraq from Saudi Arabia to watch the first strikes from coalition aircraft and the far away flashes from strikes and explosions. The world was attacking Iraq, they had been warned and yet they chose to hold their ground in Kuwait and defend their decision.  As I stared out from my armored vehicle, I thought to myself, what it might be like for those who were receiving the bombing. The soldiers had not made a decision to invade a sovereign nation, they were only following orders from their commanders and to now follow orders would have meant a quick and painful death. What did it feel like for them to watch their fellow soldiers be blown apart within their armored vehicles and other vehicles around them take a hit as they waited for their turn to receive steel on steel. What did it feel like for the commanders, watching from afar as they listened to the terrifying radio messages coming from the field and then silence? This day was just the beginning of future horrors to come as the steel rain poured down upon them. Civilian men being grabbed off the street and bused to the front lines without shoes or weapons only to receive limited support as the coalition forces hammered their supply lines and positions with the constant rain of steel.

 Their casualties were heavy, ours were few except for the sights, sounds and the smell of war that will forever be burned into the memories of those who served. Twenty-six years ago, the world went to war in the Middle East and it is now more dangerous than ever. What did we prove, beating a population over a brutal dictator’s decision? Our nation points fingers at countries and decry the lack of human rights but what has the world done to the Middle East because of our choice to stand up for a wealthy nation who chose not to defend itself?

Desert Storm is just a faint memory for many and the younger generation has no recollection of the great leaders who orchestrated the operation. We, as a nation, have created the “Hell on Earth” in the Middle East. We won the battles, we can stand proud because we completed the task of eviction only to lose the war on human rights by creating a cancer now eating away the personal securities we once had. So what does it feel like…?

Remembering War

Fifty years ago, I sat watching a black and white TV screen of wounded soldiers being loaded upon a helicopter in Vietnam. The ducking soldiers during fire fights and the corpse of dead Vietcong laying around burning villages and wondering what it would be like to be there. Five years later I found myself stepping off a bus into a dimly lit Army basic training reception station at Fort Lewis, Washington, this seventeen year old kid was about to become a man. It was a time of the draft and there were men who didn’t want to be where they were and the fear of the unknown. The next eight weeks would bring out the best of each man and as we all sat in a large assembly hall, waiting for our orders for our next school, my name wasn’t called. As I sat there and wondered why, an officer sat next to me and advised me, my school had cancelled and I had an option; choose a different school or go home to the Army reserves; I chose the latter.

The reserves didn’t fulfill my hopes and dreams and I found myself dreaming of active duty. Why didn’t I choose active duty when I had the chance; I was seventeen and there were thoughts of the teenage things I still wanted to do. The Vietnam War was over and the image of the military was one of disgrace. Who would choose a life in uniform; I did. Through the Cold War years of patrolling along the Eastern European border, watching them as they watched us. The cold winds of the North, blowing across the border of North and South Korea as we watched them watching us. We trained with worn and broken equipment through the years, preparing for battles which never came. The wall fell and there wasn’t as severe of threat in Europe as it had been but we were still watching the border of Korea.

There would be limited military actions, saving students on a tropical island, supporting the UK during their Falkland’s engagement and then the Middle East erupts in 1990. As we prepared for war, the dream of going into combat was about to become real. It had taken almost twenty years before my dream was to come to pass and when it happened, the dream was not one I will ever forget. Sleeplessness, fear, boredom and then action, only to be followed with sleeplessness, fear and boredom. Then the final battles, with the sights, sounds and the smell of death, which still resonates with me today. It’s been twenty-five years since I’ve been to war. As I sit and watch the color, high definition TV images of battles still raging in the Middle East and the corpse of Isis soldiers, it all comes back to me as it did, fifty years ago, the calling of the guns and war.

Veterans Day is the one day a year, I meet with many of my brothers and sisters of arms. We laugh, hug, shed tears and remember the days, long past but still burned into our memories. If you haven’t been there, it’s difficult for you to understand, we are family. Spend some time this Veterans Day and remember this, we were there for you so you didn’t have to experience what we experienced.  

Pull the media ring from your nose

How do like our current political season? Regardless of which side of the political fence you stand on, (being someone who straddles both sides), I have to agree with the candidate who touts the media chooses our representatives in our rigged political system. Having campaigned for public office and having to deal with the media, I discovered firsthand how the media manipulates, you the voter, into voting for "their" candidate of choice. Have you asked yourself; why real people don’t run for office? Because you won’t vote for them. When I ran for office, I ran as a “No Party Affiliation” candidate, in a gerrymandered congressional district in Florida. Since I had limited funds to advertise, the media felt they had limited time to contact me, return phone calls or emails or report my comments upon having had a two minute conversation with a reporter. Reading the newspaper or listening to the TV and radio announce they had spoken with the “Party Candidates” about a certain topic, and I was unavailable for comment, was a lie. Having to deal with nasty emails and letters, phone calls, people taking my garbage from the street side container is a just a few reasons why real people don’t run for office and the media doesn’t want to report these kind of activities. What the media wants to report, has nothing to do with what is required from our representatives. They tell us; negative advertisements work. What works is; the person accused has to respond to the negative ad, (as directed by party leaders), and the money flows to defend a character attack. As you watch the media circus; do you know what your candidate’s political platform is? Does what they say in front of the camera, behind a radio microphone or to the newspaper reporter match what their website says? Millions of people have already voted for the candidate the media selected for them; are you one of them? Did you really do any background investigation, check public records for your candidate or did you just follow what the media reported? If you haven’t performed your public duty and when you step into the voting booth and ask yourself; who are these other candidates on the ballot, you are part of the political media problem. We no longer elect a candidate to represent us, we elect someone who will win. To be honest with you, I have fallen into the same rut as you, many times and now I have to ask myself; is our nation winning or losing because of the decisions we have made? It's time to pull the media ring from your nose.

4th of July and the Grid Goes Down

June 30^th, 1730 hours

Richard slides his debit card through the reader to pay for the case of beer, hamburger buns and ground beef and waits; denied, the cashier exclaimed; want to try it again? Richard slides the card once more and waits again. The cashier looks at Richard, it denied again sir, do you have another card or do you wish to pay with cash? Richard reaches into his wallet, removes his last bits of cash and hands it over to the cashier. She hands him his dollar and twelve cents change on top of his receipt; have a happy Fourth of July weekend. Richard shoves the change into his pocket, smiles; you too, and walks out of the store. Richard thought to himself; his payroll direct deposit was supposed to be in the bank already because of the holiday, probably at midnight tonight. After all, it is just the thirtieth, and the first is tomorrow. He unlocks the door to his pickup, slides the grocery bags and the beer into the vacant seat beside him, starts the engine and stares down at his gas gauge with less than a quarter tank, back out of the parking space and headed to his home. Fortunately for him, he only had to go three miles and he had gas stations very close to his home and would just fill up the tank and get more cash in the morning, for the weekend. As he turned into his subdivision, the sounds of firecrackers were already going off all around the neighborhood. Richard thought to himself; it’s going to be a long night with fireworks and four teenage girls spending the weekend. As he pulled onto the garage apron, he shut the truck off, opened his door and pushed the remote button to open the garage door, reached over to grad the grocery bags and beer just as four girls in bikinis charge him with super soakers squirt guns and all four girl screaming with laughter, while doing soaking Richard as he was stretched helplessly across the center console, while retrieving the bags and beer. He quickly jumped out of the truck and started chasing his daughter as the girl ran in different directions laughing and screaming but they were too quick for him and as he turned to walk back towards the truck, the second attack began as the laughing girls fired from three different directions. Richard stopped, held his hands up to surrender, the water did feel pretty good on this hot Florida evening. Alright, enough and the girls ran away screaming with laughter. Richard returned to his now soaked truck, water dripping off his arms as he once again reached across the console, now watching for the third attack, which never came. As he walked through the garage and into the kitchen, his wife met him with a towel. You do know, they have been planning and waiting for that ambush for the last hour. Richard looked at Ella, while wiping the water from his head and face; it’s a mad house out there. The grocery store was packed, my deposit hasn’t cleared yet and I had to use the last of my cash to buy supplies. Ella reached over to the case of beer, tore open the end, pulled two cans out and handed Richard one. We have cash in the house account, we can get some in the morning and I will give you some more money, as she walked up to him and kissed him gently. You go get cleaned up, I’ll start dinner and then maybe we might be able to sit down for a moment. Richard turned the beer up and took a long swallow and headed down the hallway to his bedroom to get ready for the long weekend.

June 30^th, 2355 hours

Richard and Ella were sitting on the front porch, watching the girl light fireworks and listened to the mortars going off over the neighborhood. The thunder storms had missed them today but lightning was still flashing somewhere in the distance as Richard reached into the cooler for his twelfth beer of the evening. Ella was on her ninth beer and waved the one off the Richard was holding out to her. We do get to sleep in in the morning; which beach did the girls want to go to? Ella turned and put one hand over her eye to stop from seeing double; you got me drunk, they want to go to Crescent, several of their friends are supposed to meet them there. Richard sat back, laughed a low laugh; I always knew you were easy when you’re drunk; she giggled and slapped his arm as he turned up the beer and took a swallow.  The girls were having a fun and they turned to Ella and Richard; that’s it. You guys pick up your mess, it’s time to head inside and start settling down. Just as Richard stood up, and staggered towards the front door, the lights went out and the girls screamed. Some drunk hit a pole I bet, hold on, let me get my phone and I will show you the way. Richard staggered through the dark house to find his phone on the kitchen counter, turned the flash light on and headed back out to the front of the house. Come on in, we’ll pick that stuff up in the morning.

July 1^st, 0900 hours

Richard woke up with sweat pouring off his body and the smell of alcohol seeping out his pore. Ella was still sleeping with a glistening of sweat covering her body. Richard looked over at the clock, it was still dark and they were still without power. His bladder was screaming at him as he made his way to the bathroom, finished his morning ritual, flushed the toilet and the absence of sound of running water.  He walked over to the sink, turned the handle and only a small stream poured put for a moment and then stopped. He walked into the hallway, opened his daughter’s bedroom door and saw all four girls scattered out across the room in different levels of undress, all of them covered in sweat. He continued down the hall and looked at the thermostat, eighty-six degrees. Richard went through the house, opening windows and doors to allow the fading coolness of the morning fill the house. Richard found Ella’s phone on the counter, switched it on and tried to open the internet, nothing. He tried to make a call, but there were no bars showing. He grabs his keys and heads out to the driveway to turn the radio on in his truck to find out what is happening. He only found two stations broadcasting and they were reporting the entire eastern electrical grid was down. Avoid driving as there are no street lights and only major intersections will have police presence, please stay tuned for further information. Richard ran back into the house to wake Ella. Ella raised up and quickly fell back into her pillow, her head pounding from the hangover; you have got to get up, we have got a problem, the entire grid is down. Ella rolled over; what grid? The electrical grid, we have got to get some food and water before we do anything. There is no power, there is no water and we have got ration what we have, just as the toilet flushed in the hallway. Richard walked out into the hallway staring at a half asleep girl in a sweaty t-shirt and panties; I’m hot and thirsty, when we going to the beach? Richard looked at her and smiled; that’s not going to happen today, the electrical grid is down and we don’t know for how long. You don’t need electricity to go to the beach, she proclaimed. Richard returned to the bedroom ass Ella attempted to sit up, only to fall back down on the bed, oh, I feel horrible. You get yourself together, I’m going to go get some water and see about stocking up with some food. Richard walked out of the house, jumped into his truck and headed to his favorite gas station. The lights were on and people were inside buying supplies. He looked over at the grocery store, their lights were on and the parking lot was full. He slid his card into the credit card slot and then looked at the screen, “system down, please pay cash”. Richard panicked, he went into the store and waited in line behind those who were paying cash for cold beer, laughing about saving money on their electric bill. When it was Richard’s turn at the counter, they advised him they couldn’t process and credit or debit cards, the entire system was down, she was sorry, there was nothing she could do. Richard walked out of the store, furious! He spun his tires as he pulled away from the pump, out of the lot into the street for just a moment to go to the grocery store across the way. As he walked towards the front doors, he passed people with full carts of water and canned foods. As he approached the entrance, signs on all the doors, “Cash Only”. Richard walked towards the service counter and waited in line behind people wanting to use their EBT cards where several people screamed and cursed at the clerk behind the counter. Richard faced a now stressed clerk and asked; will you take a check? The clerk advices Richard, they could not process a check and she apologized for his inconvenience. He was in panic mode, he returned to his truck, started it up and looked at the gauge sitting squarely on “E”. He knew he had enough fuel to get back home, but that was it. He started to sweat and shake as he pulled back out onto the street, heading towards his home. What now, they didn’t have any cash on them or any laying around the house, they were in trouble.

July 2^nd, 1200 hours

Ella and Richard had had enough of the teenage girls, their constant complaining and how they didn’t understand why they couldn’t go to the beach. The stores and the banks were just stupid. Ella had about half a tank of gas in her car and they decided they would take the girls back to their homes. Hopefully they could borrow some water or food from their parents to help carry them over for the next couple days. What they found out, the other girls parents were in worse shape than Richard and Ella and they had nothing to spare. Richard, Ella and their pouting daughter went back to their home for another dark, sweltering evening. As they turned the corner to the main road back to their home, a thunderstorm was approaching them, hurry up, we can capture water in all our buckets, pots and pans, hurry. When they arrived, the storm was just moving in, Richard and Ella hurriedly gathered buckets, pots to capture water as their daughter told them how stupid this was. Richard pulled the deflectors from the bottom of the gutter spout as lightning flashed behind him. He filled three five gallon bucket as Ella filled every pot she had and drank some of the water from a small pan as the rain fell. They had enough water for that evening and the next day and flush their toilet, or so they thought.

July 3^rd, 1700 hours

The freezer had thawed and all the food had to be eaten, most of it was micro wave food. Richard fired up the charcoal grill and cooked the items the best he knew how. As Ella, Richard and Kerrie sat on the front porch eating soggy burritos and fish sticks, they watched another storm moving in and went back to work readying to capture more lifesaving water, but it never came to their neighborhood, it only increased the humidity and made for another sweltering evening.

July 4^th, 2030 hours

The water they had captured allowed them to use it sparingly to bathe. Kerrie was not happy about bathing with used water but was pleased with washing the sweat off her body. After the three of them bathed, they pulled the lever to let the water flow out, something happened, the water didn’t drain. Richard looked into the other bathroom and water was coming in through the drain and now was flowing out of the toilet, onto the bathroom floor. Richard grabbed a towel and stuffed it into the filth filled toilet bowl in an attempt to stop the back flowing sewage, to no avail, the sewage just kept on flowing. Ella shut the door to the hall bath and stuffed a towel into the gap to hold the sewage back as Richard did the same with the master bathroom toilet. They were being forced out of their rooms, into the family room as the sound of the kitchen sink overflowing with back flowing sewage from the public sewer.

July 5^th, 1620 hours

They stood under the gutter in the pouring rain taking showers in all their nakedness, they didn’t care and they were down to their last day of food. Richard went to his truck, turned the key and listened to the last radio station reporting martial law was in effect and anyone caught on the street after sundown would be shot. The house was too hot to sleep inside and the mosquitos had made it tough sleeping at night. As the family lay on the front porch, they watched light from fires erupting to the east and gunfire being exchanged. They wondered what was going to happen to them.

July 6^th, 1000 hours  

Only official vehicles were allowed on the street, people were now walking towards the main town to see if they could find supplies. A group of twenty neighborhood families passed in front of Richard, Ella and Kerrie with a woman walking up to the porch and asking if Richard wanted to come along to see what they could gather. Richard looked at Ella and she acknowledged he should go, so he joined the group on their trek to find lifesaving supplies. It had been several hours since Richard had left, Ella went into the back yard to take care of her bodily function and when she returned to the front of her house, three men on bicycles were just stepping off their bikes and looked directly at Ella as Kerrie ran behind Ella as they walked towards the women. Ella looked across the street and saw several other men on bicycles going to other homes. The one large man looked at Ella; what you got lady? Ella looked at the man’s waist line and saw the handle of the pistol sticking out. Ella and Kerrie backed up as the large man walked into her home with a skinny younger man right behind him. The large man pulled the gun from his waist line, pointed it at Ella’s face; what you got? Ella started to cry; please don’t hurt us, we don’t have anything. The third man walked around the men and started walking through the house pulling drawers our throughout the house, walking behind the women as the man went down the hall into the bedrooms. Ella could hear the man dump her jewelry box and then come walking back to Ella and Kerrie. Take that ring off your hand, Ella started crying, Kerrie dropped to the floor and crawled backwards away from the men and Ella pulled the ring off her hand, the skinny man went after Kerrie, pulled her into the family room. Mommy, mommy help as the large man held the gun to the forehead of Ella as he grabbed the top of Ella’s shorts and pulled them down as Kerrie screamed mommy, mommy. The men left Ella laying on the floor, she was numb and wondered why they let her live. She gathered her clothes, stood up and walked into the family room and found Kerrie, naked and crumpled alongside the couch, shaking. Ella put her hand on Kerrie and she shrieked, turned and looked into her mother’s eyes as they embraced each other. It would be another several hours before Richard arrived back home.   

July 7^th, 2100 hours

Fires lit the sky, gunfire was getting closer to their home. The family sat just inside the foyer as they listened to people running down their street. This is what happens to society when the lights go out; Ella asked? A large truck pulled into the neighborhood, they could hear men jumping off the truck and running up to the door. The family clung together, waiting for the rounds that would take their lives. Then the bang on the door; “Florida National Guard, is anyone in here”! Yes, yes, they began to weep as they opened the door to a soldier in full battle gear. We are here to escort you to a safe camp, can you quickly gather what you need and jump on one of these trucks. Another soldier arrived with flashlights and lit the area so the family could find items they needed. We have to get you out of here quickly, the vandals are building and moving. Richard looked at the soldier; we know, they’ve been here. They family walked towards large military trucks with other neighborhood families joined them.

Their nightmare was just beginning, they would spend two months in a safe camp. By the time they returned to their home, it had been looted and trashed. Their vehicles were gone and it would be six months before they got their home repaired, it would be another year before they got their financials in order. For the next year they traveled to shower points and government kitchens for their meals.

This was just a story from my imagination. I have witnessed this type of behavior in war zones and when the lights go out, you will be living in a war zone. May I suggest you be prepared for the grid to go down? Will you be able to take care of yourself and defend yourself for over a week?

It’s not a matter of if, but when.

The Legend of Bloody Mary, Swamp Witch.

The nights are cooling, its fall in Hogtown, 1859. It’s time for harvest and a time for slaughter.

Mary Worth, is a witch

.

She lives in a swamp, southeast of the settlement, by herself. Mary has a skeletal appearance, her hands and face are covered in warts and cist from embedded thorns that infected and never removed. Her fingers have long yellowed nails with embedded filth. Her face is wrinkled, with sunken eyes covered with a dull haze with black circles surrounding her eyes. Mary’s hair is long, black matted but mostly gray. She walks with a stoop and a mystic stick for support. She wears tattered, black clothing with a hood to cover her face.

Mary Worth, is a witch.

She makes a monthly trip to the general store, with a sled, of sort, strapped across her shoulders. When she walks through the swamp and forest, the dragging sound of the sled and the thump of the mystic stick echoes throughout.

Mary was met on a trail, the year prior, by a local farmer who had heard the tales of Mary. He stood in her way and looked down upon her. What do we have here; the dreaded witch from the swamp? Look at you, you are nothing more than a tattered vagabond, go back to your swamp, quit scaring my children. I do not fear you! Mary raised her mystic stick towards the farmer and hissed at him through her yellow and green teeth. A cold chill ran down the back of the farmer and the smell of earth surrounded him, as Mary hissed at him once again. The farmer stepped aside and let her pass. Later that year, his wife and children caught the fever and died. He became weak in the heart and spent the last months of his life begging, bedridden in filth. There are far worse things in life, than death.

Mary would come to town for nothing more than salt and occasionally some black cloth. She would lay her coins on the counter, never speaking a word. The merchant would set her change on the counter in front of Mary and wait till she walked out of the store before brushing the coins into a bucket of lamp oil, because he was afraid to touch them.

Mary Worth is a witch.

The next morning, the town was stirred up with fear; a young girl was missing. They searched the town and the woods surrounding the settlement, she was nowhere to be found. A week later, another girl was missing and the townspeople searched every house and building, the woods and all the way to the swamp; she was nowhere to be found. The following night, another girl became missing. It’s the witch, she’s taking the girls, the parents cried out; she’s taking our girls! Several men gathered together and made their way into the swamp to search for Mary. It took most of the day for the men to find Mary’s homestead, fighting the muck and the vines and the insects.  When they approached her shack, a dark figure was standing in back, stirring a cauldron over an open fire. The merchant stepped forward and called out to Mary. Mary, we have young girls missing; do you know where they are? Mary never looked up or acknowledged him, she just kept stirring the cauldron. You old witch; where are the girls? She turned sharply and starred at the merchant, but something was different. Her hair was straight and the gray was gone. Her eyes had a sparkle from where there was only a dull haze before and the black circles and wrinkles were gone. The moles and cist were smaller and she actually had a color to her skin. She raised her mystic stick and held it out in front of her towards the merchant; Be Gone! He could feel the pressure of her mystic stick on his chest and the smell of earth surrounded him. Be Gone, she scolded one more time, this time almost knocking the merchant off his feet. The other men started stepping backwards then turned and run. The merchant struggled through the vines and muck trying to catch up with the other men as they ran away from Mary’s homestead.

It was past dark when the men made it back to the settlement, exhausted, scratched and filthy with the memory of Mary Worth, embedded into their conscious. The merchant walked to the pump, and drew a pail of water to clean up before entering his home. The oil lamp gave an orange hue to the room as he opened the door and met his wife, waiting for him at the dining table. He explained the happenings of the day and made his way upstairs to their bed before an uneasy night of sleep.

The merchant was awaken at 12:08 by his wife; Sarah is gone, Sarah is gone; she screamed! The merchant, in a sleeping stupor, grabbed his gun from the wall, loaded two silver bullets into the chamber and headed down the stairs. He grabbed a lantern, raised the globe and lit the wick and headed out into the darkness screaming Sarah’s name. “Sarah”, “Sarah”, “Sarah”! Several neighbor, hearing the commotion, come out in their night shirts and called for Sarah. Other men gathered with lanterns and head off in different directions, in search of Sarah, calling out her name. The merchant saw a small white figure a hundred yards in front of him, it was Sarah and she was walking towards a bright light. The merchant screamed out Sarah’s name but she kept walking. As he ran closer, he saw it was Mary Worth, holding her mystic stick up, glowing in light he had never seen before. He dropped the lamp, pulled the hammer back on his gun, aimed and shot Mary in the thigh. The glowing stick fell to the ground and went dark, as did Sarah. The merchant clutched his daughter as several men ran past them to where Mary Worth lay. She had changed, the woman on the ground was a younger Mary Worth, but it was Mary. Several men tackled her, bound her wrist and ankles with hemp, drug her into a clearing beneath a grand oak. The cast a rope over a limb and hoisted Mary, by her hands, over twenty feet in the air. More townspeople gathered around to witness the witch hissing and screaming as she dangled from the branch. Several men gathered lanterns and headed back into the swamp to Mary’s shack to find the missing girls. When they arrived at the shack, coals glowed beneath the cauldron and the shack was aglow from burning candles. The door was open and what they found sickened them. One of the men found his daughter’s corpse hanging above Mary’s alter. A blood covered challis sat upon an altar, dried blood coating all parts of the challis and alter. Dried blood streams running down the sides of the altar to the skeletal remains of a child. Alongside the altar was a box of salt and when they brushed the surface, the face of the other missing girl was exposed. The men gathered the remains of the children and wrapped them in the black cloth from Mary’s bed. The poured lamp oil on the walls of the shack and lit it as they walked into the darkness. The flames rose quickly and roared above the trees as the men entered the swamp and back to Hogtown.

It would be first light before the men returned to the settlement with the remains. The townspeople cast judgement and began gathering liter and wood to pile beneath the hissing witch. At sundown, the townspeople gathered around the woodpile as judgement was passed and the pile lit. Mary Worth screamed and called out; you will all be damned! Your children will call upon me. The flames rose as Mary screamed as the flames touched her feet and her clothing started to smoke, the merchant cut the rope, casting her into the flames. The following day, they gathered the ashes, took them to the edge of the swamp and scattered them into the dark water.

Today, as you walk along Lake Alice at sundown, step off the sidewalk onto the dirt path that runs along the east side. Look across the lake, close your eyes and call out; Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary. You’ll hear the sound of her sled rails and the thumping of her mystic stick and the smell of earth with surround you.

Mary Worth is a witch.

Young girls will gather in slumber, sit cross legged on the floor with a lighted candle, a bowl of salt and a mirror, hold hands and call out; Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary. Her image will appear in the mirror.

Mary Worth is a witch.

Only the brave will venture into a dark room, alone, with a candle and bowl of salt held out in front of them, stare into a mirror and call; Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary. As her image appears, your soul will be cast into the mirror to spend eternity with Bloody Mary.

Mary Worth is a witch. 

If you want to read the rest of the story, the book is available here.

Networking the Right Way for Business and Job prospecting

For many years, networking “experts” have proclaimed; you have to be on social media to be successful in business or for your next job search. Many small businesses and job seekers have followed their advice and constantly updated on all of their social networking sites, at the recommended times during the day, as recommended by the “experts”; what has happened?
 Many boast about the large numbers of followers they have on Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin and other social networking sites; but has any of that social networking turned into profit for the business or a solid job prospect? Small businesses and job seekers often rely on software to assist them with social networking, to stay in constant contact with their database. It’s often a daily deluge of drip campaigns, blogs and dry emails reminding everyone, who is in their social network, how important they are to their business or why they should be hired. The big surprise comes when one of your followers buys a product or service from a competitor or you just got news of someone on your social network, who is less qualified than you, was hired for a position you had sent a resume to and now you can’t figure out why they didn’t contact you. You “liked” what they posted on their social networks, you made comments on their sites and yet they went with your competitor or hired someone less qualified than you; why?
 You immediately look at the competitor’s web site and social presence to determine why your contact went with them. You convince yourself, your multiple websites are more professional than theirs and your pricing is far superior to your competitor or you were more qualified for the position; so why did your follower go to them?
 For many years, many of us have gotten away from the personal aspect of business. It all started with; sly-dialing to leave a voice message, a fax, an email or a text, hoping you wouldn’t have to actually talk to a real person. We walk through our community and pass by people, never saying a word to any of them and many of you wouldn’t recognize many of your social media followers, if you passed them in the isles while grocery shopping. This impersonal lifestyle, many of us lead, is the result of our social networking failure. 
 The newest rave, spanning across nations, is the old adage of personal networking. I have attended many of these events and chuckle to myself as I watch many people stumble over themselves trying to network, which more than often turns into a social hour of people talking with people they already know or are in the same line of business. 
Networking the Right Way starts out with your appearance, a message and a goal. It’s all about developing relationships, gaining the confidence of people within your community and spanning out from there. Learning the skill of networking takes time and effort, you will gain lasting results and build confidence in yourself and develop a strong business reputation. Here is some advice I offer to those in business or those seeking employment; 

               10 Tips for Successful Business Networking 

1. Networking is about being genuine. 
2. What are your goals with participating in a network meeting? 
3. Visit as many Networking Groups in your area. 
4. Volunteer or hold leadership positions in your community. 
5. Ask open-ended questions when networking. 
6. Become known as a powerful resource. 
7. Have a clear statement of what you do, why you do it, for whom and why you love what you do. 
8. Be able to articulate what you are looking for and how others may assist you. 
9. Follow up quickly on each referral and business card you receive. 
10. Call those you meet, who may benefit from your services, and follow through on collaborating with those you can assist.

 10 Networking Tips using business cards/business positions

 1. Never leave home without your business cards.
 2. Have a Unique Sales Proposition on your business card. 
3. Treat the business cards with respect when you receive them. 
4. When handing out business cards, hand out two. 
5. Keep your business cards simple, don’t boast yourself on your card. 
6. Make notes on the business cards you receive. 
7. Be part of the networking committee, volunteer to be a greeter. 8. Follow up face to face after a networking event, personally. 
9. Get published, write letters or business notices in the newspaper. 10. Branding yourself. 

      Common Questions/Comments to make while networking

1. Tell about you’re your business?
2. What’s the most unique aspects of your business? 
3. What type of client is least profitable? 
4. What’s your biggest business challenge right now? 
5. What is the best thing that happened to your business this year? 6. What is your biggest wish for next year? 
7. Do you have employees? What is the most difficult thing you have to deal with? 
8. What’s your biggest personal accomplishment so far? 
9. What’s your biggest personal accomplishment in your career? 10. If I were to refer a client to you; what would be your ideal client? 
11. When is the most convenient time to stop by your business so you can tell me more about what you do? 
12. What can you tell me about yourself?

         Common Mistakes to Avoid when Networking

 1. Speak without enthusiasm. Lack of voice inflection when introducing yourself and emphasizing your credentials. 
2. Failure to express opinions or interest. 
3. Stuck in a routine and act bored. 
4. Looking around hoping other people will rescue you. 
5. Narrow focus of personal interaction. 
6. While speaking to people, looking around to see someone else. 
7. Crowd the food table or bar, (overeat and getting drunk). 
8. Politics, religion, off color jokes and gawking. 
 9. Negative comments, (boss, elected officials, your business) 
10. Bragging about your accomplishments or how great you are. 11. Hanging with the same people the entire event. 
12. Ignoring people who are trying to engage with you. 
13. Trying to engage in conversation while others are deeply engaged in conversation. 
14. Don’t be a cling-on.

Welcome to the New Normal

This time of year is always special for me and it has nothing to do with the holidays. Twenty-five years ago, my unit was preparing to go to war. It had been fifteen years since our military had its last engagement in Vietnam. We had had small scale conflicts; Grenada and the communist factions of Cuba and the Soviet Union, Panama and the ouster of Manual Noriega just prior to Operation Desert Storm and the many years of watching the borders of Korea and Europe during the Cold War. Now a new war is upon us, terrorism. We have watched it from afar, it is something that happens over there and we have long been isolated from terrorism. As long as I can remember, there has always been terrorist acts being reported, written about and many of the acts were brought upon by; left versus right, have-nots versus the haves and religion against religion. The fights have always been over there, as we watch from afar and thought; how terrible it must be to live with terrorism. The troubles in Ireland, the loss of life as we watched from afar, terrorism between two factions, extremism and now the start of an old phenomenon has raised its ugly head in our country; terrorism. It’s no longer over there, it’s here and will be in our lives from here on. We can wage battles, over there, and talk of how we are going to defeat those who inspire terrorism, but it’s here, now. The real question is; how do we defeat terrorism? The answer is; you don’t. Is there peace in Ireland? Can there ever be peace in the Middle East? We can answer that with our own experience within our country, our racial divide. We can all claim ourselves as being optimist and looking forward to the brighter future but, I proclaim, being the ultimate pessimist, we cannot have peace as long as we have poverty, religion, different races and language. There is no sense in hiding in your home to escape terrorism, it’s here, live your life, be vigilant and know; terrorism can happen to you. Welcome to the new normal. 

Can't Find a Job!

I just finished preparing a report I will be presenting to a room full of commercial real estate brokers, lenders and contractors next week. What I found fascinating was information during my research, (beyond what I will actually be presenting); a large number of millennials who are living at home because they can’t find employment in their field of study, are under employed or are thinking of going back to school to study another field, (adding additional debt to their excessive student loan balance). I read several responses from those who moved back home with their parents, (or never left home), they all have something in common; poor communication skills. If they speak the way they write, (or as the journalist wrote their comments), I can completely understand why they can’t find employment.

Regardless of what field you choose to work in, communication is important, especially when dealing with the public, face to face. I would love to have overheard their job interviews, especially when they are asked that one question, asked by every human resource officer or potential employer; “tell me about yourself”. How does anyone explain a lack of work history or internship within their selected field of study? In reality; who expects a mid-five figure starting income without experience and be able to explain that with a straight face, (remember, they lack communication skills); I would love to hear that one. By far, most millennials will fail in their future endeavors, if they never learn professional communication skills; emails and texting is not going to get the job done.

Thinking back to projects I have worked on within our university city, I have noticed many millennials, hanging out with their friends, (who also live with their parents), overhearing their conversations, attempting to solve their worldly problems by convincing themselves; their idea is the right way and the world needs to conform around them and businesses need to step up to the new way of thinking.

I offer this advice; take a course in public speaking at a community college where the instructor has actual business experience. Join a Toastmasters club where you will be evaluated by the members in a learning environment or hire a speech coach who will put you through the paces and develop your speaking ability. Try networking with your new found speaking skill, spend less time playing video games and hanging out with others in the same financial predicament as you. If you really want to get ahead, set yourself apart from what everyone else is doing and take control of your life. Mom and dad only have a limited time left on this earth, leave a little cash for them to live on in their final years. 
If you want a few more answers on why you can't find a job, here is a link for more "in your face" information.

Images

  I want you to take a moment and think; when was the last time you bought film for a camera?  How long has it been since you owned a camera that required film? You do realize, you can still get film processed, very inexpensively. You can take your exposed film to an outlet center, they will send the film to a processing plant, who will develop the film and send your images back on a DVD. In most cases, you will not receive your negatives, they shred them. Why would you need your negatives; you have your images on a DVD. For the majority of people, digital photography is the way they capture and keep their images. It’s easy, cheap and you can share your images instantly for the world to see, right now, on Facebook, Twitter and snapchat. It’s there in an instant, possibly shared by some of your followers and then forgotten. I recently had a conversation with Brian, at Harmon Photo, here in Gainesville, we share the same concern; where is our family’s history going to be in twenty years? He reminded me of our shared concern, which is crossing the photo industry; keeping our history alive with photographs, is a dying tradition.

Many of you will be able to relate a memory from a time when you were a child and anticipated a large family get together, with cousins, aunts and uncles and grandparents. The excitement builds, as the time draws closer, your imagination grows of what the event was going to be like; playing in the water, games, spitting watermelon seeds on your cousins, laying in the grass, looking up and trying to explain what kind of animal the clouds shaped into. You arrive late and when you woke up in the morning, it was raining and the entire brood was sitting around grandma’s house bored and fussing with each other. Grandma goes into her bedroom, brings out some boxes and very soon, the adults are sitting around the dining room table, looking at photographs,  passing them along and commenting; what would that car be worth now or, you really wore that? Soon the children would gather with the adults, where they would point out family members from the past, on yellowed gray, black and white photographs. Pictures were being taken out of the box and handed around and someone would ask grandma; who is this? She would take the photo and stare at it for a moment; that was… The picture of the naked girl running in the yard, only to find out, it was your mom. Everyone is now laughing and pointing at your embarrassed mother, but it’s not what you think, it is a picture was of a three year old girl. You find another picture of your mom, when she was in elementary school. You pick up a photo of your school picture and hold it alongside and stare at the features, how you resemble her. You dig down into the old photos and find an aged, black and white photograph of a teenage couple, standing in front of an old car; who is this grandma? She takes the photo and brings her hand to her mouth as her eyes begin to tear, from a wound which has not yet healed. That is your grandpa and me, going to a church social. She brings the photo back in front of her and touches the image of the young man. There are photos of soldiers and sailors, proms, weddings, family gatherings and funerals, all part of your history, laid out before you. Where do you keep your images?

Fifteen years ago, we kept our images on three inch floppy disks; how many of you have a computer that will read a floppy disc or where could you send the disk off to recover your images? Would it be too expensive, that’s okay, it was just some old pictures. Maybe you’ll store all your new images on a DVD or memory card; are you aware they have 64 gig memory card, that will hold up to seven thousand images? With technology increasing and in order to have the latest and greatest mega pixel gadget and the best and greatest new place to store all your images, in the cloud; what could possibly go wrong? What is going to happen to your family history?

When you’re gone… as they are cleaning out your desk drawers, cabinets and they find old technology on floppy disk, DVD’s or memory cards… it will go into a bag, your history is gone. There will be no sitting around the table laughing and pointing and remembering your history. There will be no touching your history because it will be in the trash heap of forgotten memories.  How will they remember your history? Where are your images?

Here are links to assist you of how to preserve your history;

http://www.digitalpreservation.gov/personalarchiving/index.html

http://www.digitalpreservation.gov/personalarchiving/documents/PA_photo.pdf

http://www.digitalpreservation.gov/personalarchiving/documents/media_durability.pdf

http://www.digitalpreservation.gov/documents/ebookpdf_march18.pdf

Thank You, Louise Kehoe, of Kodak, for the information.

Remembering Family This Memorial Day

She reaches down and pulls the step stool in front of the vanity, steps up to the top step, reaches for her toothbrush standing in its holder, grasps the small tooth paste tube, flips the top and squeezes the tube for a dab on the bristles of her toothbrush. She looks into the mirror, smiles, raises the handle to run water over the tooth paste and returns it to her smile as her mother steps behind her and starts brushing her hair. She parts the hair in the middle and pulls the long curly strand to the side of her head for pigtails. The young girl continues her brushing mission as her mother twists the scrunches to hold the pigtails and ties red, white and blue ribbons around the scrunches as the little girl spits into the sink, spins on the top step, looks into her mother’s eyes; is grandma going to be there too? Yes she is, her mother replies; are you excited about visiting daddy? In a quiet voice she answers, yes. Her mom wipes the excess foam from her lips and chin, kisses her on the lips; share the lipstick, as they both giggle from the kiss. Let’s get going, we don’t want to keep grandma waiting when we visit daddy. The little girl steps down from the stool, returns it to its storage position and then skips down the hall to the front door, opens it and skipped down the sidewalk to the car parked in the driveway. Her mother walked behind her, opened the door and lifted the little girl into her car seat, fastened the straps around her and shut the door. As they pulled out into the street, the little girl looked out the side window and thought about seeing her father as her mother watched her in the rear view mirror. The drive went quickly, and soon, they arrived to an awaiting grandma’s hugs and kisses. Do you know where he’s at; the grandmother asked? Yes I do, as she turned and ran to her father’s position among the other soldiers. When she reached his position she sounded out; hi daddy and touched the white tombstone marker. As her mother walked through the garden of stone and looked down at the markers of those who sacrificed their lives, so we could celebrate our freedom.  Both women knelt down and placed an American Flag on the grave and leaned a wreath of flowers against the back of the stone as the little girl talked to the father she had never touched, shared a kiss or giggled from the tickles he promised to give her on the video they had all watched hundreds of times. Her father did not return home to the pageantry of fanfare and speeches. He arrived in a solemn hearse with a veteran and police escort, in a flag draped coffin. The sound of blaring rifles, the folding of the flag and being presented on behalf of a grateful nation and a lone bugler sounding a call to rest with taps. Memorial Day is the time we remember those who defended our freedom with their last breath but it goes beyond the service member, there are families who bear the weight of loss. As we pay respect to our fallen, Memorial Day 2015, please take time and remember our Gold Star Families.

Your Voice or Your Property Rights; Choose One

The Board of County Commissioners are about to decide, which is more important to you; your voice in front of your peers or your property rights, which one are you willing to give up? How could this happen, you ask? County Staff is attempting to follow the City of Gainesville position of removing your voice, in front of your peers, in speaking out against cases brought against you from the county Codes Enforcement Board. The position of the Alachua County Building Department and Codes Enforcement officer would rather have an Independent magistrate hear each case presented by officers of Codes Enforcement. It can be intimidating to stand in front of a board of your peers, who are volunteers, but having a county paid magistrate, listen to cases being presented by county officials being paid, with a county paid attorney overseeing the counties position; what could possibly go wrong? The arrogance of members of our county commission, county attorney’s office and members of staff reflect their personal political desire of centralized government control of every aspect of your personal property rights.  You can make a difference with policy by writing our county commissioners and expressing your opinion and your choice. The motion to be read to the commission; Have an Independent Magistrate listen to specific cases, remove the volunteer codes enforcement board and have an Independent magistrate hear all cases or leave it just as it currently is; a voluntary citizens board. You other choice is do nothing, say nothing and lose your voice as well as your property rights; which are willing to give up?